


The Unbroken Soul

by Quantic129



Category: Dragon Age (Tabletop RPG), Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Original Work
Genre: Graphic Violence, Grey Wardens, Honestly except for the setting this is barely fanfiction, Mage-Templar War (Dragon Age), One character has a potty mouth, Rags to Riches, Swearing, The Inquisition is coming eventually I promise, War is terrible and we're not shying away from that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28936194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quantic129/pseuds/Quantic129
Summary: This is the story of a lowly saarebas who escapes captivity and lives her own life for the first time ever before eventually returning home as a powerful champion of the oppressed. Follow her journey as she goes from being a scared rebel mage named Sera to an agent of the nascent Inquisition to the first Qunari Grey Warden to the legendary Arcane Warrior Saarasala, the very first Warden-Commander of Seheron.ORThe story of a character I made for Dragon Age’s Tabletop RPG, except I don’t have a group with whom to play this character because my friends are flaky af. :/ The campaign in which I would play this character starts with the Mage-Templar War before transitioning into an Inquisition campaign, hence why this character joins the Inquisition. From there the campaign diverges pretty heavily from the Inquisition video game, taking the plot north towards the Tevinter Imperium (and Seheron) instead of staying in southern Thedas. This is not your average Inquisition fanfic. This is a story where the Inquisitor is a supporting character and the Inquisition plotline takes a back seat to the protagonist’s character arc.
Kudos: 1





	1. Dreams of Freedom

9:40 Dragon

The Waking Hills, Ferelden

Somewhere deep in the dark, misty forests of northwestern Ferelden, nestled in the foothills of the Frostback Mountains just south of the Waking Sea, a group of mages rested in tense silence. There were maybe thirty of them, most no older than twenty, mere apprentices ripped from their studies by the collapse of the Ferelden Circle of Magi. They huddled together beneath the dense canopy, between unnaturally still trees, scared, exhausted, and utterly lost. The forest was eerily silent, punctuated only occasionally by distant, unidentifiable animal cries, cries that sounded increasingly like human screams the longer one listened to them. A few meters away from the huddled apprentices, a handful of more experienced mages conversed in tones barely above a whisper. Three hulking figures wearing chainmail with swords strapped to their backs lurked nearby, their eyes constantly sweeping across the mists that veiled the surrounding trees, their hands never far from their hilts.

When the rustle of footsteps reached this group, their response was electric. All conversation stopped immediately, blades and staves were drawn, and in an instant everyone was on their feet, staring out into the trees. Most stared intently towards the sound of the footsteps, but others watched in the opposite direction as if expecting an ambush. No one moved or made a sound. They just watched.

Through the trees stumbled a tall, bulky shape, a figure that staggered back and forth as if drunk, bumping into trees and running into bushes but still always pushing forward. As the figure emerged from the cover of the foliage, it resolved into the form of a female Qunari carrying an unconscious elven woman in her arms. The pair were covered in dirt and grit to the point that their clothes—simple roughspun travel garb for the Qunari and a comparatively fine linen tunic and loose breeches for the elf—looked as if they had taken a swim in a mud pit and then let their clothes dry on their bodies. The Qunari was tall even by the standards of her race, but thin and gangly, with a pale grey complexion and silver hair framed by long, lightly curved horns. The lower half of her face was covered by a dirty cloth wrapped hastily around her head, which did not fully conceal what looked to be a large scar on her right cheek. Over one shoulder emerged the rather long hilt of a bastard sword, plain but well made, a peculiar possession for one so destitute. On the whole, the Qunari had a rather drab, washed out appearance.

The elven woman was striking by comparison, with fire red hair and matching red facial tattoos on pale skin. Instead of the intricate branching patterns of the Dalish’s vallaslin, this elf’s tattoos ran in straight, slanted lines across her forehead and cheeks before diving straight down past her chin, down her neck and into the collar of her tunic. Even softened by unconsciousness, everything about this elf was sharp and angular, from her thin face to her hard cheekbones to her arched eyebrows.

The Qunari woman appeared to not notice the collection of skittish mages she had blundered her way into until she literally collided with one of the hulking, chainmail clad figures. Qunari and elf collapsed immediately into an exhausted heap, and the edge on the conspicuous tension among the mages dulled somewhat but did not entirely dissipate. Paranoia still reigned among this group, and the pathetic spectacle before them could yet prove a trap.

Such reservations were evidently not held by the hulking, chainmail clad figure off which the Qunari woman had all but bounced. A broad, friendly smile broke through an anarchic beard as the utterly massive dwarf knelt before the heap of tangled limbs. Certainly, somewhere under the chainmail straining futilely to contain his bulk lay hard muscle, but it was primarily the vast reserves of fat possessed by this dwarf which threatened to make him wider than he was tall.

“Well!” the dwarf boomed, “hello there, little one! Never thought I’d be able to say that to a Qunari, but you’re all skin and bones, aren’t you!” The dwarf chuckled at his own playfulness. The rest of his party stayed silent and suspicious.

“Let ol’ Kerdik Kitrik take care of you. How’s your friend doing? Well, she’s breathing fine, that arm needs a healer but looks like she’ll be alright probably. In the meantime, we can get some food and hot tea in you, and then you can tell us what the blast you’re doing in this Stone forsaken wilderness. How does that sound?”

The Qunari’s head rose slowly to look up at the dwarf, revealing eyes that, even glazed and unfocused, shone a striking violet. Those eyes now showed no hint of understanding, the only emotion evident in them a spark of apprehension buried under a crush of exhaustion.

A slight elven man in traditional Dalish dress, with Dalish vallaslin spidering across his face, huffed up to the dwarf. “Are you quite mad, Kerd?” he said haughtily. “You think perhaps we should not invite strangers for dinner? We’re running out of food as it is, and, well…”

Kerd snorted emphatically. “Nonsense, Val. Do these two look like _templars_ to you? And the skinny one can have my rations. I could stand to lose a few kilos, ho ho ho!” Kerd slapped his gargantuan gut and chortled as once again his compatriots remained stony faced.

Val looked over to the group of more senior mages, who for the moment were still more concerned with scanning the surrounding trees than addressing the peculiarity in their midst, then turned back to his companion. “Kerd-”

“Val, I taught you better than this.” Kerd’s tone was only slightly sharper, his voice still conveying mainly congeniality and humor. “Mysterious strangers encountered in forbidden forests make for delightful conversationalists. Don’t blow this chance for a fascinating story.”

He refocused his attention on the Qunari woman and the still unconscious elf. “So what do you say, little one? How about a meal and a story?”

The Qunari woman did not answer. Exhaustion still clouded her features, but as her startling violet eyes focused slowly on the dwarf, they widened with growing fear.

“Hmmm,” Kerd hummed, “Do you speak the Trade Tongue, little one? Can you understand me?”

The Qunari started taking rapid, shallow breaths, her eyes shifting restlessly from the friendly dwarf before her to the tense fugitives looking on, seeming for the first time to comprehend her circumstance. In a small, broken voice, she spoke in Qunlat.

_“Please don’t make me go back.”_

_“Woah, woah, no one here will make you go anywhere.”_ Kerd said, switching seamlessly to Qunlat. _“What is your name, little one?”_

Unease persisted in the Qunari’s eyes, but she answered immediately.

_“Saare-”_

But just as quickly as she answered, she cut off, confusion and fear breaking through exhaustion across her face.

Kerd studied the Qunari’s features seriously now, his eyes scrutinizing the Qunari’s horns and the sword across her back before lingering on the apparent scar that was not fully hidden by the dirty rag over the lower half of the Qunari’s head.

“Well,” he said, his jovial demeanor returning. “Sera it is! _Come, little Sera, let’s get you comfortable and get some food in you. Here, I’ll help you with your friend.”_

*******

9:52 Dragon

Seheron, Seheron

A massive crowd of Qunari thronged within the Seheron Forum, pressing in on each side of a wide corridor lined with _beresaad_ standing at attention. The corridor led to the great sweeping steps of the Basilica Quia, on the first landing of which stood a platoon of _arvaarad_ holding the leashes of their _saarebas_. Behind them, at the top of the steps, stood the body of Qunari society, the supreme commander of the _antaam_. The Arishok stood rigidly with cold detachment from the commotion below, a stone-faced, hornless giant with long, white hair surrounded by his retinue of _kithshok_.

Down this corridor of Qunari discipline and excitement marched five hundred Grey Wardens, rows of silver armor set against blue-and-grey tabards, winged helmets glinting in the noonday sun. At their head a massive white stallion pulled a cart loaded with a burden nearly as large as the horse itself. The cargo was wrapped tightly in a white tarp emblazoned with the griffon emblem of the Grey Wardens, except strangely the emblem was a deep purple, an unusual color combination to be associated with the ancient order.

Sitting on the stallion was the proud, posed figure that commanded the most attention. On their own, they would have towered over their Grey Warden brethren; atop that massive horse they were easily the tallest figure in the entire Forum, visible even deep within the crowd. Their prodigious height and long, curved horns clearly marked them as Qunari, but their features were otherwise obscured by a curious helmet, seemingly custom made to account for Qunari physiology. Their plate armor was clearly marked with Grey Warden regalia, but like the tarp behind them, it was a brilliant white accented with deep purple. The color coordination between armor and cargo sent a clear message. It said: _yes, this item belongs to the Grey Wardens: through me._ Curiously, cradled under the Qunari’s left arm was a large rectangular bundle wrapped in fine purple velvet, another clear signal of ownership. To their back were strapped two particularly large swords: one, a greatsword made for a Qunari with a blade the same brilliant white as the armor; the second, a plain but well made bastard sword, a peculiar possession for one so august.

Once the procession reached the steps of the Basilica Quia, the Qunari dismounted their massive stallion and started to climb the stairs. Four Grey Wardens detached from their ranks and untied the large bundle in the cart, taking care to keep it concealed as they began carrying it up the steps. When the Qunari reached the first landing, they drew their white greatsword and knelt, holding the sword point down in front of them, rectangular bundle still under their other arm. The Grey Wardens set down their bundle beside the Qunari and loosed the tarp enwrapping it, taking great care not to reveal what was beneath. Their task completed, they retreated to their ranks.

A silence fell briefly upon the Forum until the Arishok stepped forward to address the Qunari Grey Warden and the crowd in Qunlat.

“The Grey Wardens have answered the demand of the Qun,” he intoned imperially. The crowd cheered his words. “The Salasari honor the Grey Wardens as they honor their role within the Qun. The Salasari acknowledge the commandant of the Grey Wardens within Seheron, Warden-Commander.” The Arishok spoke the title as a personal name, which in the view of the Qun, it was.

The Arishok barely paused to allow for the cheers of the crowd, but at this merest opening, the Qunari Grey Warden confidently interjected, earning a deepening frown from the Arishok.

“On behalf of the Grey Wardens, I thank you, Arishok, for the opportunity to meet the demands of the Qun.” The Qunari’s voice was oddly distorted, ostensibly by the helmet they wore, such that it was impossible to determine whether the voice belonged to a male or female. “I look forward to once again serving my homeland in its time of great need. The blight shall not take Seheron, for victory is in the Qun!” Concerned murmurs spread through the crowd and the Arishok’s frown tightened into an irritated grimace. The Qunari Grey Warden did not give the Arishok the opportunity to intercede, however.

“And to prove my devotion to the Qun,” they said, “I have brought gifts!” Unbidden, the Qunari rose, lifting the white greatsword and with its tip, flung aside the tarp covering the large bundle besides them. Revealed beneath was a massive skull, elongated snout filled with serrated canines, grand horns curling around its temple.

“Behold!” the Qunari bellowed, gesturing with all the showmanship of an auctioneer. “The skull of the great _ataashi_ , a high dragon slain by my own blade!” They raised the white greatsword above their head in a dramatic gesture. The crowd roared its approval.

“And that is not all!” Lowering their sword, the Qunari in a single swift motion pulled the velvet wrapping from the rectangular object and held it aloft. “I return to the Qun after two ages lost the sacred Tome of Koslun!” The Qunari Grey Warden turned slowly on the spot, allowing the entire crowd to see the massive, hardbound book held high in one armored hand. The crowd fell breathlessly quiet as thousands of eyes gazed for the first time on their lost relic, and then the Forum erupted into frenzied jubilation. Qunari screamed their joy, wept openly in the square, danced spontaneously in the crowd. Even a few _beresaad_ forgot their duty and collapsed to their knees. When the Qunari Grey Warden completed their revolution, the Arishok stood frozen in open shock. The Qunari allowed the pandemonium to play out, tome still held aloft, greatsword held at their side, head held high in unmistakable pride.

This time when the cheers faded, the Qunari Grey Warden allowed the Arishok to speak.

“You claim great deeds, Warden-Commander,” the Arishok said, respect and suspicion warring across his face, “and yet you hide your face behind a _bas_ helmet. Why is this, when you claim devotion to the Qun?”

The Qunari Grey Warden lowered the tome, squaring their shoulders and stiffening their back. “I am of the Qun,” they said. “I am a Qunari who wishes to serve her people.” They held out the white greatsword, point down, tip suspended just above the paving stones below, and then released their grip. The crowd gasped in shock and no small amount of dismay as the Qunari stepped backwards. The greatsword remained frozen in place, hovering just above the ground. The Qunari’s freed hand went to their helmet. “I am Warden-Commander of the Grey Wardens in Seheron,” they said, and pulled away their helmet, “but my name is Saarasala.”

Striking violet eyes stared defiantly up at the Arishok. Long silver hair, tied at the ends into a single knot, spilled out from the removed helmet. Pale grey skin stretched over strong cheekbones, down to thin, heavily scarred lips pressed into a determined line. And on the right cheek sat stark and bold the House of Tides heraldry, branded directly onto skin. Saarasala tossed her helmet aside carelessly and stared up at the Arishok with back straight and head thrust high. Between them, the _arvaarad_ drew weapons and assumed openly hostile stances. Their chained _saarebas_ gazed upon Saarasala with a mixture of disbelief, disgust and just a bit of reverence.

The crowd of Qunari was similarly conflicted. Elation over the return of their sacred relic now battled fear evoked by the apparent display of magic. Into this ongoing chaos Saarasala had to shout to be heard.

“I was once called _saarebas_ , but although I acknowledge the danger my magic poses to the world, I reject the label of _thing_. I am a person who has done great good for the world, and I will continue to do good for the Qun and for my people. I am going to save Seheron and the world beyond from a new blight and in return I ask for nothing, but you will hear me now.”

Saarasala wheeled around to face the crowd and once again thrust the Tome of Koslun high above her head. The crowd gasped collectively, both from the suddenness of her movement and because at this moment most of the Qunari first saw the brand on the warrior mage’s cheek.

“I slew a great _ataashi_ ,” she roared at the crowd. “I have killed no person except in self-defense or in defense of another’s life. I fought with the Inquisition against the ancient darkspawn magister that tore the sky asunder. I stand as proof that mages unchained can be a boon on the world and not a curse.

“And not only have I returned to the Qun the Tome of Koslun, but I _read it_. Every page, every word. Nowhere in our sacred text does it call for the enslavement of mages. Nowhere does it say that mages must be chained and leashed. The enslavement of those we call _saarebas_ is not a demand of the Qun, it is oppression born of fear and ignorance. I stand as proof that this oppression is unjust and unnecessary!”

Saarasala whirled back around to face the _arvaraad_ , who at a signal from the Arishok were now advancing on the armored mage, spreading out to envelope her. Lowering the Tome of Koslun back underarm, Saarasala held out her free hand and her greatsword leapt into her grasp, blade level with the ground and pointing firmly at the encroaching soldiers. To a man, they froze in place.

Saarasala flicked her blade in a horizontal arc. Wherever she pointed, the collars around the necks of _saarebas_ clicked open and clattered to the ground. The _saarebas_ differed widely in their reactions to their apparent emancipation. Some immediately fell to the ground and prostrated themselves. Some cried out and tried to lift the heavy collars back onto their necks. But most simply stared dazedly at the collars or at Saarasala as if not comprehending what was happening.

Then Saarasala spoke for the first time directly to the _saarebas_. “Come with me. I can protect you. They need me more than they fear you, so I can keep you safe. You won’t have to be slaves anymore.”

Silence filled the Forum. Not a soul moved, all breath seemed to cease for a moment that lasted an eternity. Then, hesitantly, slowly, so very _slowly_ , a _saarebas_ woman took a step forward. And then another. The _arvaarad_ made no move to stop her. Saarasala transferred her sword to her other hand and held out an inviting, upwards facing palm. Gaining in speed if not in confidence, the Qunari woman walked to Saarasala. And then a _saarebas_ man stepped forward. And then another. And then no more. When everyone released their held breath, three former _saarebas_ stood beside Saarasala.

Saarasala returned her greatsword to her right arm and stared up once more to an Arishok grinding his teeth in open fury. Then she raised her sword above her head for a final time.

“We are Qunari! We are people! We are _saarasala_!” she chanted.

Saarasala and the Arishok stared each other down. There were no more words, no more grand acts. The issue was now in the court of public opinion. The two warriors stared at each other and waited for the people’s verdict.

The crowd broke into a murmur.

*******

9:40 Dragon

The Waking Hills, Ferelden

The Qunari now called Sera sat on hard packed dirt, her back against a large stone. There were no fires burning in this camp, but someone had draped a heavy blanket over her shoulders and thrust a hard heel of bread and a steaming cup of tea into her hands. Sera ate ravenously and only vaguely wondered how these _bas_ could have heated tea without fire.

Lying next to her, Lucia groaned but did not wake. Licking the last crumbs off her fingers, Sera reached a hand down to stroke her flame kissed hair, but faltered at the last moment. The two women were still only recently acquainted, and yet now Lucia was Sera’s closest companion in the world, her only companion. Sera owed her life to Lucia, Lucia was one of only two people Sera had ever known who had treated her like a real person, and yet Lucia was a _viddathari_ who had betrayed her role in the Qun, which left Sera feeling a confused mixture of protective and uncomfortable towards the severe smuggler.

Sera’s other hand set down her teacup and alighted on the pummel of Karasten’s sword, _Tal-Kost_ , placed carefully beside her. Tears welled up in the corner of her eyes, but Sera had not the energy to shed them. Not for the first time, she gripped the hilt of the sword and squeezed shut her eyes, murmuring a prayer under her breath.

 _“Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun._ Thank you, Karasten, for this gift you’ve given me. I’m sorry the giving cost you everything.”

When she opened her eyes again, she found the fat, friendly dwarf called Kerd staring at her, a stupid grin breaking through his mess of a beard. His friendliness unnerved Sera. It was an alien thing, something profane and sure to be fleeting – he was only kind to her because he did not know what she was.

He spoke to her in Qunlat. “You look like you’ve been hit by hard times, little one. You’re in good company now. We don’t have much, and I can’t promise you’ll always be safe with us, but no one here will harm you.”

Fear stabbed Sera’s heart with every word. Words of kindness could not be directed towards her, they had to be illusions, lies, a misunderstanding to be withdrawn as soon as the truth was revealed. Paralyzed by fright, all Sera could do was stare at the dwarf Kerd and grip _Tal-Kost_ in one hand and with the other hold onto Lucia, just so that all she had in the world would not disappear on her.

Kerd frowned, opened his mouth to say something else, but just at that moment three _bas_ bustled up behind him. Sera recognized one of them, Kerd’s elven friend called Val, but the other two were new to her. One, a rather bony, hard-faced elven woman with a prominent hooked nose and what seemed to be a perpetual scowl, bent to say some words Sera did not understand to Kerd. The other, a handsome, golden-haired human man, flashed an easy smile at Sera before turning his attention to Lucia. Sera stiffened as he crouched to examine Lucia, but her body would not obey her commands to intercede.

Sera’s attention was torn away from Lucia by Kerd speaking once again in Qunlat. “Sera, my dear, my uhm… friends here would like to know where you came from and what you’re doing out here, and I frankly am eager to hear your story as well. Why don’t you tell us what happened to you?”

Sera looked from the smiling dwarf to the hardnosed scowling elf to the elf with the scrawling tattoos watching her with cool distrust. She shrank inwards on herself, withering under their increasingly scornful gazes.

“It’s okay, little one,” Kerd encouraged gently. “You’re among friends now, you don’t have to be afraid.”

Sera opened her mouth, tried to force out words, but all that came out was a strangled croak. The elf Val scoffed and stalked away. Strangely enough, the dour elf softened her scowl, if only slightly. Sera glanced back towards Lucia and noticed the golden-haired human had both hands held over her sternum. There was a soft glow seeping through his fingers…

Sera’s blood ran cold.

Abruptly, Lucia’s eyes flew open and she sucked in a gasping breath. A coughing fit ensued while Sera held her shoulder in a white-knuckled death grip, her other hand still locked around _Tal-Kost_.

“Mother of goat fucking son of a whore…” Lucia wheezed, holding her left arm against her chest, her face contorting into a grimace. Kerd’s overgrown eyebrows rapidly climbed his brow.

Lucia noticed Sera’s death grip on her shoulder and her striking burgundy eyes rose to meet Sera’s. “You…” she said in Qunlat, “What happened? Where in Andraste’s great flaming tits are we?”

Seeing Lucia conscious and as caustic as ever gave Sera heart, but still she was only able to utter two words.

_“Bas saarebas.”_

“Mages?” Lucia grunted, looking over to their onlookers. The golden-haired _bas_ was preening smugly, the elf’s scowl was entirely unchanged, and Kerd was wearing an expression teetering between concern and amusement. “Fucking stupendous.”

Kerd cleared his throat awkwardly. “Hmm, hello, good to see you’re awake. Maybe you’ll be more forthcoming. I was just asking your friend Sera here what happened to you.”

“Sera?” Lucia said. She looked at Sera, still petrified with her fingers digging into Lucia’s shoulder, and snorted. “Sure, why not.”

Lucia looked back at Kerd. “What happened to us is none of your sodding business. Where in the bloody void _are we?_ I can’t even smell the ocean from-”

Lucia froze, the color draining from her already pale face. Slowly, she turned to Sera. “Where is my ship?” she asked quietly.

The muted panic in her voice snapped Sera out of her own panic, enough at least to utter two words.

“I’m sorry.”

Lucia threw her head back and groaned, letting loose the longest uninterrupted string of curses that Sera had ever heard.

“…All the shite I had to go through, the one good knock I got in against that bitch Jade, fucking gone! _Vashedan!_ Venhedis! And now I’m stuck in this blighted forest Maker knows where and my flaming arm is _broken_ … Mage!” Lucia barked at the golden-haired human, who jumped at the harsh address, his smile faltering for the first time. “You healed me; I saw. Why is my arm still fucked up, you worthless nughumper?”

The golden-haired _bas_ stared at Lucia blankly until she growled and switched from Qunlat to a language Sera did not understand. An unintelligible but visibly tense exchange followed which somehow ended with everyone once again staring at Sera.

“Sera…” Kerd began, not unkindly. “It would seem that healing becomes less effective with subsequent uses on the same injury, and that your friend already received magical healing, although it was, shall we say…”

“You did a shite job, _Sera_ ,” Lucia said, although her sarcastic smirk softened the harsh words.

Kerd held out calming hands as Sera’s panic started to escape in rapid pants. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re with friends. Most people here are like you…”

Sera felt the cold fingers of terror slither around her heart. “No- no- I’m not-” She could not finish the thought. She was.

Sera began to hyperventilate. Her vision started to dim around the edges. She heard voices around her, more than there should have been, louder than they should have been. She felt rough arms suddenly yank her to her feet by her armpits, indecipherable shouting in her ear. It all just washed over her, trapped as she was in a vice of darkness closing in on her. Only a single word broke through. She did not recognize it, did not understand it, but she heard it screamed over and over again.

“Templars!”


	2. A Home Amidst War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War is terrible but bonds forged in blood are unbreakable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lack of foresight, but I made two minor revisions to the first chapter: I added a description of the setting and I changed the character Val's personality. These revisions are in the first paragraph of the story and in Val's first appearance.

9:40 Dragon

The Waking Hills, Ferelden

“…So I need you to get your dumbass head out of your giant dumb ass because I’ll be damned if I let my ship be lost for nothing and I’ll be doubly damned if I die in this pissed-soaked arse-end of nowhere!”

_SLAP._

The world snapped back into focus in a rush. All that was left was a ringing in her ears as Sera stared stupidly at the beautiful, scary elf glaring up at her. Lucia arched an eyebrow and raised her arm once more.

“Do I need to slap you again?” she asked. Sera quickly shook her head.

“Good,” Lucia said. “Because we’re about to get stabbed and my sword arm is broken.”

“HEADS UP!” Kerd roared, swinging a massive hammer dangerously close to Sera’s hip. Sera shrieked in surprise as it clobbered an onrushing soldier she had not seen. The blow knocked the _bas_ clean off his feet, but unfortunately it also unbalanced Kerd and sent his great bulk tottering to the ground.

Lucia grinned up at Sera. “Try not to die,” she said brightly.

The ringing in Sera’s ears faded and all at once she became very aware of the screams filling the air. Everywhere she looked, armored, red-robed assailants attacked the _bas saarebas_ , who fought back with ice and fire. Sera spotted the bony, hard-faced elf and the golden-haired smiling human defending a large group of cowering younglings. The elf parried a sword with her staff and then thrust her hand into her attacker’s chest, sending forth an invisible shockwave that blasted the warrior a dozen paces back, bowling over his comrades and crashing him into a tree with a sickening crunch. Sera did not see the soldier rise again. The human stayed mostly behind the elf, healing her when a sword made it past her staff, and otherwise hollering at the top of his lungs for his kin to rally to them. As Sera watched, an attacker made it past the elf’s barrage and charged at the terrified novices. Without missing a beat, the human grabbed the soldier and shoved his staff into his neck. The _bas_ howled as if burned, convulsing as the human kicked him into a group of his peers. Sera wretched as the unfortunate soldier exploded in a spray of gore, knocking down his fellows.

“Qunari!” Sera heard Lucia shout. “Oaf! _Sera!_ ”

Sera’s eyes snapped to where Lucia pointed. An armored warrior charged at them, a breath away from plunging down his sword raised overhead. With no time to think, Sera yelped and instinct raised her hand. At the last moment, Sera realized what she was doing and tried to abort, but only half succeeded. A burst of purple light flew from her palm and splashed against their assailant, startling him into ceasing his charge but doing little else.

“The fuck was that? That was pathetic,” Lucia said incredulously.

“I- I- I don’t-” Sera stammered.

“Fucking murder him!” Lucia shouted.

Their assailant was looking down on himself equally incredulously, and then sensing easy prey started stalking forward much more slowly, looking very much like a man enjoying himself. Sera looked around desperately, but found their previous savior still struggling to get back to his feet after his wild swing. She did, at least, find her hand still locked around _Tal-Kost_. She had to deliberately force her grip to loosen as she put her other hand on the hilt, holding the sword in front of her less as a weapon than as a talisman to ward off evil. All she could do was back away from their attacker, Lucia muttering obscenities behind her.

The _bas_ leered at them, opening his mouth to deliver crude taunts, but instead he let out a strangled cry. His body spasmed as it was bathed in a baleful red glow. This time Sera allowed instinct to take over. With an undignified yell, she raised Karasten’s sword and brought it down with all her strength on the human’s exposed neck. It was a messy cut; _Tal-Kost_ rasped against the _bas’s_ pauldrons as Sera very nearly missed her target, but the sheer weight of the blade carried the sword through to its mark and the sharpness of its edge did the rest. The _bas_ let out a gargled scream as Sera continued to push the sword down into his flesh, forcing him onto his knees. She tasted bile as she saw the spurt of blood and _felt_ his muscles rip and tear around her sword, but her own terror forced her to drive the blade ever deeper. The _bas_ dropped his own weapons to grasp the sword biting into his neck, his eyes locking onto Sera’s, his mouth opening in a bloody, gasping, choking gargle. Sera saw the panic in his eyes, she saw hatred, she saw pleading and accusation, but most of all she saw the creeping fog of death darken the human’s eyes as he drowned in his own blood. With a choked sob she wrenched _Tal-Kost_ from his flesh and let him fall to the ground, clutching his neck, his bulging eyes still piercing hers as he died slowly in great agony.

“Huh.” Lucia looked mildly impressed. “Well done. I didn’t know you had that in you.” Neither had Sera. As _saarebas_ , she had been ready to kill at the demand of the Qun, but this _bas_ was no enemy of the Qun. Sera was all too aware that the Qun would likely sanction the actions of these red-robed soldiers against the _bas saarebas_ , which now included herself. This killing had not been in defense of the Qun, it had been pure, selfish self-preservation. Sera was not sure how she should feel about this death; she searched herself and found… nothing. She felt nothing, just empty numbness. Watching the human drown in his own blood did not feel real; Sera found herself surreally wondering if any of this was real – freedom, people willing to help her, fighting alongside _bas saarebas_.

The _bas_ having collapsed, Sera was able to see that the baleful red glow that had been his demise extended behind him, seeming almost to be drawn from his body and then siphoned away. This stream of red magic led to Val, who seemed to soak up this red glow while strangely grimacing as if in pain. As the light faded around and within the _bas_ , Val relaxed, his grimace fading as if absorbing the magic had soothed some invisible injury. When he looked at Sera, it was as if seeing her for the first time. His widened eyes studied her as an adventurer would gaze upon some lost treasure.

“You… _saarebas_?” he asked in halting, thickly accented Qunlat.

Sera stared at him silently, unwilling or unable to answer that question. Beside her, Lucia snorted. “Down, boy, your persecution boner is showing.”

Val squinted suspiciously at Lucia, clearly not understanding the Qunlat words, as Kerd huffed up to them. “You three, time to go,” he barked. “The templars are occupied, we leave now and they won’t follow us. Probably.”

Indeed, the red-robed, armored assailants – those Kerd called templars – were swarming en masse on the remnants of the _bas saarebas_. Bodies in armor and those in robes littered the ground and Sera spotted more robed figures, and a few armored ones, fleeing into the trees. As Sera watched, an armored human, of lean build and not particularly tall even for a human, shouted at his compatriots in a vain attempt to impose order on the chaotic struggle. He managed to rally only two or three other templars to his side before facing a knot of _bas saarebas_ fronted by a large, ruddy-faced human wielding her staff like a club and throwing around impressive chunks of rock and bursts of lightning. The woman aimed a massive gout of flame at the templars, downing two red-robed warriors, but the human templar seemed somehow unbothered by the roaring fire. He rushed forward and smashed his shield into the woman’s face and then, as she reeled, drove his sword into her stomach. A nearby hulking, chainmail-clad human swinging a massive greatsword, sporting a round, ruddy face not dissimilar to the woman’s, roared her fury as the _bas saarebas_ went down, dispatching her current templar foe with a single swing and then barreling into the human templar.

From another part of the melee, Sera heard furious screams rise above the clashing of steel and cries of pain. Darting through the chaos was an avatar of righteous fury – a tattooed elven woman in templar leathers, a long, bloody dagger in each hand, her face contorted in rage as she sowed death all around her. The elf ducked under the sword of yet another behemoth human in chainmail, this one nearly identical to the greatsword wielding warrior, and slashed his ankles. The elf did not spare the warrior another glance, sliding past him and throwing herself at the nearest _bas saarebas_. Her frenzied shrieking did not abate as she furiously stabbed the unfortunate human, continuing her wild assault even as he collapsed underneath her. When she finally rose, her entire front drenched in blood, she immediately hurled herself at a white haired, surly elf in dark robes. The surly elf coolly intercepted her assault with a swirling dark mist, which seemed to not have any effect until the raging templar swung at the elf, only for the elf to easily sidestep her blade. The templar screamed in increasing frustration as her furious slashes repeatedly swung wide, baring teeth that were almost shockingly white against her blood-stained face. The surly elf bared his teeth right back, dark red magic pulsing up his staff to form a sigil at its top. He struck the templar with this sigil and this time her scream was in agony. The templar recoiled, her body spasming as dark red magic continued to crackle over it, and then threw herself at the elf with ever greater mania. Her swings were just as wild as before, but now they came on too fast and ferociously for the elf to dodge them all. He took cuts to his arms and one under his eye before the templar landed one long slash across his chest.

Sera forced her eyes away from the fighting as Kerd ushered their small band into the shadowy mists between the trees. The cries of battle faded much faster than Sera would have thought possible, almost as if the gloomy stillness of the forest was swallowing all signs of life. The farther into that forest they traveled, the more that stillness enveloped them, the closer the mists encircled them, until the gloomy silence became nearly suffocating. Without thinking, Sera’s hand made its way back to Lucia’s shoulder. The solidness of Lucia’s warmth, the reassurance that Sera was not alone in this unnatural stillness, made breathing easier. Lucia gave Sera a small, sideways smile and patted her hand.

“There, there,” she said. “We’re not dead yet.”

Sera looked at Kerd and Val, heads huddled together in urgent whispering, and suddenly she was sure that none of this could be real. None of these people had known her longer than a few days – Kerd and Val had not known her longer than a few minutes – and yet each of them had saved her life with no question to her worthiness nor expectation of repayment. Lucia had been paid by Karasten to ferry her to freedom, certainly, but she had also cast no blame on Sera nor demanded repayment for the loss of her livelihood incurred while helping her. Sera could not be worthy of this charity; she was _bas saarebas_ , worse than merely a “dangerous thing,” she was a dangerous thing that had scorned the protection of the Qun and unleashed herself on the world. She was a thing among things, a danger among dangers. Sera dropped her hand from Lucia’s shoulder and stared straight ahead. The feelings of self-loathing boiled within her but she locked them away, let not a drop of her inner turmoil show on her face.

Their motley bunch had been walking only a few minutes through the silent shadows when very suddenly those shadows were no longer silent. One moment there was no sign of life anywhere around them, and then the next the four of them were staring dumbly at two templars who seemed to have materialized out of thin air. The templars stared back at them, obviously just as shocked as they were. For a few tense seconds, no one moved. Hands hovered over hilts, but no one drew weapons. And then Sera, who still held _Tal-Kost_ in one hand, raised the sword in both hands. In truth, she did this only to prevent her hands from shaking, but the templars clearly took it as a threatening action, one they inexplicably took seriously. With a shared sideways look at each other, the templars wordlessly backed away until they had disappeared into the mists of the forest.

Lucia released a held breath. “You know, it occurs to me as you’re saving my life, that I haven’t thanked you for the last time you saved my life.”

Sera was dumbstruck. “That’s not- I’m not-” she spluttered. But Lucia was not finished.

“Or for the other… two? No, three. The other three times you saved my life. So four times in total. Five, including just now. Mother’s tits, I’m racking up quite a debt to you, my sword arm had better heal fast or I’m gonna have to buy you a whole damn ship when we get out of this blighted forest. So, you know, thanks.”

Lucia looked uncomfortable as Sera gaped at her. But she had no time to stammer out another denial before a meaty hand whomped her the back, nearly knocking her off her feet. “Yes, well done, Sera! Quite a backbone on this kid. You’ll make a fine warrior someday.”

Sera’s head whipped around, unable to process the insanity unfolding before her. Even Val smiled shyly at her with a murmured ‘thank you,’ a sharp reversal of the haughty scorn with which he had greeted her.

In a whispered baritone, Kerd began to sing. “With soul of steel came she / A goner would’ve been we / A great blast from her palm / Whooped their ass with aplomb / Saved fair maiden and… me,” Kerd finished rather lamely, apparently having run out of rhymes.

Val nodded imperiously. “Quite well done, one of your better performances,” he said approvingly.

“Who the fuck you calling ‘fair maiden,’ old man?” Lucia growled.

“Thank you, thank you, you’re too kind,” Kerd said to both equally, bowing as far as his great belly would allow him.

Insanity. Sera was surrounded by the insane. They must be, to trust her to bring them anything but death and ruin. How pathetic their group was, that the once _saarebas_ , now dangerous fugitive, had been their savior this day. They were a smuggler with no ship and a broken sword arm, a grossly overweight soldier well past his prime, and a renegade _bas saarebas_ who apparently caused himself injury every time he cast a spell.

And yet, Sera found herself smiling as Kerd broke out into another ad lib ballad, sung in an undertone as they resumed their hasty flight. Val started a small dance, delivered while dodging trees and stepping over forest debris. Even Lucia was grudgingly nodding along. When she noticed Sera watching her, she gave her a small but genuine smile.

Maybe it was all insane, maybe it was pathetic that this group of pariahs and has-beens would trust a dangerous _thing_ like Sera, but it also felt like something Sera had not known since the collar had been snapped around her neck. It felt like warmth, like fellowship, like something that maybe one day could become a family. It certainly would not last that long. This could not last, not with two _bas saarebas_ to tear it apart. But while it did last, Sera found herself willing – hoping, even – to call this group a home. Her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't until Lucia called Sera an oaf that I realized I've basically recreated Rangi and Kyoshi's relationship from the Kyoshi Novels. Honestly, I'm quite okay with that.
> 
> These chapters will probably be on the shorter side to make consistent updates possible, maybe two to three thousand words. In fact, this chapter was originally only the first half of the second chapter, but it wrapped up nicely enough and I wanted to at least attempt weekly updates.
> 
> This chapter gives you a little taste of just how many characters are actually in this story - probably way too many. Every unnamed character in this chapter with a suspiciously specific description does in fact have a name and a role to play in the story.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know exactly what Lucia looks like, her character was inspired by a picture in the Dragon Age Core Rulebook for the DA Tabletop RPG. I'm sure most people don't have that book, but you can find PDFs online by just googling the book. (Or you can buy the book, it's an excellent system that's beautifully presented, just saying...) The picture is on page 27, Lucia is the red-headed elf on the left in that picture. That is exactly what she looks like, except at the start of the story, she is wearing different clothes. The other person in that picture may or may not also exist in this story...
> 
> I know there are a lot of made up words in this story, but instead of listing all translations here Imma be lazy and just link you to the Qunlat Wiki page. That will have all the info you need to understand all the gibberish.
> 
> https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Qunlat
> 
> I hope it's not unclear what italicization denotes throughout this story. Most of the time, the system I'm employing is that dialogue is unitalicized and written in English, but spoken in Qunlat because the main character does not speak the Trade Tongue, while most Qunlat words are italicized. The exceptions to italicizing Qunlat are words that have made it into common discourse in Thedas, e.g., Qun, Qunari, Qunlat, and titles/names for specific people, e.g., Arishok, Saarasala, Karasten.
> 
> Brownie points for anyone who can figure out why Sera adopted the name Saarasala.
> 
> If I actually complete this story, which is a big if because it's gonna be a long one, I may end up changing some details about the 9:52 Dragon sequence. It's hard to anticipate all the details of how things will turn out when you're only at the beginning of the story.
> 
> I'm a slow writer and also in graduate school, which keeps me real busy, let me tell you, so unfortunately you should not expect frequent updates to this fic. I will try to keep a consistent update schedule, probably every other Saturday, but we'll see.
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcome!


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